


Clean up on Aisle 4

by showmeurteef



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: D/s undertones, Degradation, Food, Other, Trans Changkyun, denial kink?, enby kihyun, exhibitionism but nobody actually sees them, food kink adjacent, grocery shopping but make it sexy, no actual smut just horniness & horny discussions, quaker oats crossover au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmeurteef/pseuds/showmeurteef
Summary: “What part of ‘grocery shopping’ do you not understand? I’m— we’re here to get food. Like, for the week. Like, for eating. Not for anything even kind of related to sex.”kihyun is a Responsible n Picky grocery shopper n changkyun thinks that's incredibly sexy of them. (i was going thru a weirdly specific kinks thread on reddit [i'm sorry] n someone said their biggest fantasy was to be fucked by an irritated shopper at the grocery store n this...... is what i did w that)extended/explained warnings within
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun
Comments: 22
Kudos: 93





	Clean up on Aisle 4

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:  
> \- the usual established relationship = established boundaries  
> \- the food kink comes up when changkyun suggests licking chocolate sauce off of kihyun
> 
> pls lmk if u need anything else explained/tagged !

“Cocoa pebbles?”

“No.”

“ _Fruity_ pebbles?”

“Absolutely not.”

Changkyun drapes himself over the shopping cart, his frustrated groan echoing up and over the empty cereal aisle and cascading down over the mostly empty grocery store like very tragic, very brokenhearted rainfall.

“Why don’t you love me?”

“I _do_ love you— ” Kihyun checks cereal off of their little shopping list (like, an _actual_ paper list because they’re a 43 year old stuck in a 26 year old’s body and physically checking items off of their list brings them a strange sense of peace like no note-taking app ever could) before grabbing a box of Nature’s Path Organic SmartBran™ Cereal and carefully, deliberately placing it among other (horrifically) responsible purchases. “—which is why I’m taking care of your digestive tract. Doesn’t the baby want to be regular?”

Kihyun smiles big enough to scrunch their whole face and body up and inward, clearly far too amused with themself, and gestures for Changkyun to continue down the aisle. 

“What the baby _wants_ is some cereal that doesn’t taste like twigs and bullshit,” he grumbles, but keeps pushing the cart anyhow. Squeaky wheels over shoe-scuffed concrete, an infinite expanse of brightly colored boxes Kihyun is too practical to purchase, and incompatible urges buzzing inside Changkyun’s stomach. 

Changkyun gets that late night grocery trips are sacred to Kihyun; the blessed respite of domestic duties after a stressful workday, a temple of methodical decisions that Changkyun is lucky to even _know_ about, let alone enter. And, even though one man should only be forced to endure _so many_ Top 40 Hits strained through some kind of elevator music filter steadily getting louder with every passing moment (Changkyun figures the manager’s testing the willpower of the late night shoppers against such unbearable ambience, hoping to get them to leave as soon as possible, but Kihyun is a goddamn pillar of strength— eats willpower for breakfast along with their bran twigs, obviously), Changkyun has to do whatever it takes for Kihyun to scrape up some semblance of inner peace. He has to. He will.

Pushing the shopping cart down, down the breakfast aisle. Winding around to the snacks and drinks, careful not to steer too far from Kihyun. Staying just within their reach for their easy access to the neatly arranged basket, just close enough to catch their tiny, self-satisfied smiles. And Changkyun almost, _almost_ starts to feel something like peace, too. 

Except he knows himself far too well to believe that the liquid warmth enveloping his senses is simply a classic case of domestic bliss because watching Kihyun’s eyes narrow at a price tag to the tune of a jazzy little rendition of Katy Perry’s “Firework” is enough to spark fantasies about fingering himself in front of the Quaker Oats dude (like, on the packaging— _not_ the actual dude. A distinctly _un_ sexy shiver runs down Changkyun’s spine.)

As if sensing Changkyun’s mental distress and the slippery hold on his own horniess, Kihyun pauses at the non-dairy milk. Changkyun halts dutifully beside them as they take a moment to mentally calculate the price difference between almond milk brands, between vanilla vs. plain, and then make a little “ _Ah!_ ” sound when they remember that the refrigerated plain almond milk is on sale —saving them approximately 2.7 cents per ounce. Tightly triumphant, they beckon Changkyun around the next aisle with a curled finger. 

Changkyun’s insides turn to bubbling oatmeal (Quaker Oats dude has fully invaded his horny brain now.) His fingers tighten around the cart handle. He pushes on.

It’s so sexy that Kihyun can just, like, _do_ math and that they’re so _unbearably_ particular and that they direct Changkyun around like he couldn’t _possibly_ figure out where to steer the cart next without their guidance. But he’s wary of telling them any of this— they don’t need the ego boost.

Instead, Changkyun holds himself back as much as he possibly can, in spite of all the oatmeal and Need mixing around inside his skull. He tries to remember that the 9:04pm grocery trip is holy. And that Kihyun let him (their decidedly _un_ holy boyfriend) tag along. 

It’s no big deal. A routine grocery trip. All Changkyun has to do is push the cart and swallow down the staticky heat that rises every time Kihyun’s brows go all tight over discounted pasta, every time their lip curls over bulk fruit snacks. 

He clears his throat. They look back at him, not even making eye contact, and jerk their chin sharply to indicate that Changkyun’s pushing the cart too slowly.

And it’s fine. He can keep up. He can pay attention. He can resist the urge to make another suggestion or to “accidentally” bump into a Pop Tarts display just to hear Kihyun snip at him again.

It’s _just_ a grocery trip. Calm. Routine.

Then, of course, they reach the cold section, where Kihyun puts their hands on their hips and stares down the non-dairy section. Every jug and tub and bottle that isn’t _exactly_ the discounted brand they want receives a positively _acidic_ look. And Changkyun’s palms turn slick against the cool metal cart handle. 

He wipes them on his sweats as Kihyun checks almond milk off of their list —pen movements all tight and sharp— but it doesn’t help. With every passing minute the store gets quieter, _quieter_ and Changkyun’s heartbeat gets louder, _louder_. His respect for Kihyun’s inner peace is melting rapidly (like, well, oatmeal doesn’t exactly _melt_ , but Changkyun’s brain is too far from the Quaker Oats dude to make any poignant analogies now, anyhow, and he doesn’t want to belabor the point. He’s horny.)

It’s hard to point out exactly what does it for Changkyun. It isn’t so much that he wants to _be_ the fridge door handle —tucked so tightly beneath Kihyun’s warm palm— or the jug of almond milk —plucked so carefully from it’s shelf— as it is that every interaction he’s had with Kihyun within the last half hour has involved irritation, degradation, _denial._ Kihyun’s got everything under control— they’re _certain_ that they’ve got everything under control, while the wet warmth between Changkyun’s legs is anything _but_ under his control. Changkyun feels like the biggest, stickiest mess in the whole wide world (like, imagine that all the syrup and jam and honey in the breakfast aisle simultaneously exploded, and that Changkyun was making snow angels in the middle of the wreckage, and also that Changkyun had been covered in marshmallow fluff beforehand), but, to Kihyun, he might as well be another overpriced item on the shelf to scratch off their list with precise fingers and a peeved look. And, god, Changkyun wishes he were.

Changkyun is a little concerned that Kihyun might be a mind reader because they gesture him forward with that finger curl _again_ and Changkyun’s feet _scurry_ after them. He feels like a damn bug, trailing at Kihyun’s heels, practically _begging_ to get squished. 

And he might— he might, honest to god, _beg_. Because now Kihyun’s picking up frozen fruit, now they’re arranging the bag ever-so-gently beside the other cold items, now they’re putting another little check mark on the list. 

They so clearly know _exactly_ what they want, and nothing _except_ what they want is good enough. Everything down to the last cent is accounted for, is fully considered. Nothing gets by their sharp eye. Nothing escapes their quick, tense little fingers.

And Changkyun _needs_ some of that merciless particularity to come his way. He _needs_ another resounding “ _no_.” With every calculated flick of Kihyun’s pen, with every noise of satisfaction that slips from them, he feels his lips parting centimeter by centimeter. He’s gonna interrupt their careful assessment of the dessert section (it’s not that they’re a hardass about “health food,” or whatever— it’s just that every ounce of fun has to be planned for and budgeted well in advance, which, obviously, makes Changkyun’s entire being throb like he’s one giant, horny nerve ending) with yet another one of his impossible suggestions. Oh, _god_ , his shoes are squeaking against the concrete as he tugs the cart to a halt by the ice cream. He’s pointing to a little wire rack of ice cream toppings hung over a freezer door. He’s—

“Chocolate sauce?” He asks, mouth dry and feet shuffling. “Please?”

“Do you _honestly_ think that _I_ would let—”

“I wanna lick it off of your dick.”

Kihyun’s eyes go wide. Their fingers tighten around the —momentarily forgotten— list, disrupting the current vaguely familiar piano pop cover with quiet crinkling.

“Please?” Changkyun adds again, not _really_ expecting more politeness to get him any closer to being wrapped around Kihyun’s dick, but hoping it’ll stroke (Stroke. God.) Kihyun’s tight (Tight. _God_.), mannerly brain regardless. He wants them to deny him, to deny any shred of their own arousal that Changkyun’s outburst has brought up.

“ _No,_ Changkyun,” Kihyun sighs, pinches the bridge of their nose, and slides their gaze to the fluorescent lights overhead— very much 43 years old in a very much sexy way. “You are _not_ going to suck my chocolate coated dick in the frozens section of our neighborhood grocery store. They’d never let me back here. Just— _no._ ”

There it is: another irritated, incredulous denial. Like Changkyun’s the most absurd person on the planet, and Kihyun can’t believe it’s up to _them_ to put him in his place. And, the proverbial cherry on top of Changkyun’s horny sundae: the first things that Kihyun thinks of on the very long list of consequences for public chocolate coated dick sucking are _their_ inconvenience, _their_ social exclusion, and _their_ grocery trips being ruined. 

Changkyun inhales. Exhales. He could swear he’s never been so turned on in his life (he could, but grocery trips are a very regular occurrence and, even though he’s rarely allowed to tag along, just sitting at home and _imagining_ Kihyun going tight-lipped over a disappointing sale, or scowling at Changkyun’s texts begging for something that hadn’t been submitted for Kihyun’s rigorous review at least three days prior, is enough to make him pull out the vibrator.)

“But we can’t do _anything_ sexy with bran twigs.” 

“We’re not—” Kihyun dips their head lower and folds their shoulders inward, as if they’re physically trying to reach Changkyun on some lower, narrower level. Changkyun feels like a Hot Pocket (yes, the Hot Pockets are right behind Kihyun, and Changkyun has very little brain energy for more imaginative metaphors right now) stuffed with bubbling molten cheese, threatening to burst. “What part of ‘grocery shopping’ do you not understand? I’m— we’re here to get food. Like, for the week. Like, for _eating_. Not for anything even kind of related to sex.”

Changkyun just blinks at them. His cheesy, saucy insides (ew, but also... yum?) get hotter, thicker— spinning and _pushing_. He presses his legs together. 

“Are you— have you been turned on this _whole_ time?” They grip the cart tightly— _too_ tightly, and then break into laughter. The kind that makes their eyes close so tightly it almost looks painful, that makes them clap their hands in a distinctly middle-aged manner, that brings their shoulders up to their ears. Changkyun’s heart goes gooey. “You’re so _needy_.”

For the second time this evening, Changkyun disrupts the grocery store’s hallowed tranquility to drape himself over the cart and groan, but, this time, he stamps his feet, too. He makes eye contact with the neatly stacked cans of soup in their cart, perfectly slotted between crackers and cereal to ensure that they don’t roll around with Changkyun’s unreliable steering skills. His underwear suddenly feels very wet, very tight.

“You can’t just _say that_ ,” he sobs. The cans are probably arranged like that to keep all the dry goods together for checkout, too. His knees wobble.

“Why not? It— _look at me when I’m speaking to you_ ,” Kihyun sighs, and Changkyun’s legs nearly _give out_. He looks up as fast as he possibly can, clinging to the cart for dear life, and tries not to blink. The amusement written all over Kihyun’s face has turned dangerous. “It’s true, isn’t it? All worked up just watching me grocery shop... Is _that_ why you wanted to come with me?”

Changkyun nods once, twice, careful to respond to each question. Embarrassment slides into his core. His heart flutters in his throat.

“Why? What is... all of _this_ for you?” Kihyun releases the cart to gesture broadly at Changkyun and through the store’s crisp, quiet air. They inch closer, as if to get a better look at Changkyun’s absurdity. “Would you get all hot for anybody nice enough to care about your digestive health?”

“Can we _please_ not talk about digestion when I’m feeling like this?”

“And how _are_ you feeling?” Kihyun is right beside Changkyun now, closer than they have been all evening, and without the cart and the list and the peace between them, Changkyun feels sweat start to collect beneath his binder.

“What I’m _feeling_ is, like, you’re so _unbearably_ nitpicky and controlling and uptight and—” Changkyun swallows thickly, shifts his weight from foot to foot. Somebody drops something in some other aisle, but Changkyun doesn’t care; the little reminder that they’re not alone just adds to the urgency, urges him on. “I want you to do whatever you want to me. Please?”

Changkyun wilts as he finishes, and Kihyun just watches him with their kind hands laced in front of them and their sharp teeth flashing warmly. Like they knew exactly what Changkyun would say, like they know exactly what he’ll say next. The heat in Changkyun’s belly turns _mean_. 

“I can’t believe you’d get off on something so simple. _This_ is all it takes? To get you all gross and wet and sticky?”

Changkyun can’t do anything, can’t say anything in reply. Little mouth drooping open. Fingers wound tightly around the cart handle. Heart racing. (Frozen in the frozens section.)

“Does this happen every time we get groceries? How come you didn’t say anything ‘til now?” Kihyun brushes his hair behind his ear, just _barely_ grazing the spot behind his ear they _know_ sends tingly warmth straight to his dick. Their lips puff around a knowing hum. “Is the baby too _embarrassed_ to share his icky little thoughts?”

They clasp their hands over their chest, still clutching the list, but Changkyun doesn’t _want_ their mock sympathy. It just adds to the fiery urgency in his brain, in the pit of his stomach. What he _wants_ is—

“Want you to _touch_ me. I— _Please_ touch me— or _don’t._ Be strict, be _mean_ , Ki.” He unsticks his palms from the cart and shoves them in his hoodie pocket, distantly aware that he shouldn’t latch onto Kihyun in public like a horny octopus, no matter how quiet the store seems.

“Poor, needy baby. So _easy_ ,” Kihyun sighs, and Changkyun could _hate_ them for playing along so well, for so precisely stoking his need. But, then, they set the list in the cart (neatly, _neatly_ on top of the cereal box because Changkyun wasn’t already sweating enough) and take Changkyun’s head in their hands. Their thumbs lightly stroke his cheeks, and he forgets how to think entirely. “I’ve got you wrapped so tightly around my finger, huh? I’m in charge of everything, including _you_.”

Changkyun whines and nods in Kihyun’s grasp.

“And to _think_ that you’ve been right behind me this entire time thinking such sad, _filthy_ things— in _public_ , too?” Kihyun tsks, all disapproving and middle-aged. Changkyun’s mouth fills with spit. “You disgust me. Maybe I should just leave you here, let you walk home all alone. I could be in bed by the time you got back. I could leave a note on the fridge telling you to put away the groceries before you come to bed, before you finger yourself open while I stay fast asleep.”

Changkyun sobs. Kihyun’s gaze glides back and forth, checking and double-checking that they’re alone, and Changkyun can practically _hear_ the wheels turning in their head, churning out the usual evil. They shuffle him backwards, across the narrow aisle, and against a freezer door. Changkyun’s world narrows to the biting cold on his back and Kihyun’s warm hands on his even warmer face.

Kihyun presses their noses together, and in some other universe, it’s a sweet little gesture; local queers sharing a romantic moment at the neighborhood grocery. But in _this_ godforsaken universe, the touch just makes Changkyun’s dick throb.

“Would you like that? Or would you rather I fuck you right here, right now?”

Changkyun just nods, and he’s not even sure which option he’s agreeing to, but it doesn’t matter. Because it’s _Kihyun_. Pressed against him, whisper like a snake’s hiss, eyes like iron. And he never wants to move from this spot —Top 40 Hits and icy glass door and all— ever, _ever_ again (unless Kihyun asks him to.)

“Anybody could come around that corner and down this aisle. They’d see you all easy and wet and _still_ beneath me. I bet you wouldn’t make a sound, wouldn’t even look away from me. And maybe I’d stop fucking you, or maybe I wouldn’t...” Kihyun’s voice gets lower and lower, punctuated with a thoughtful hum. They blink slowly, smile, shrug. They _back away._ Changkyun swallows a whine and stays pressed against the freezer, shivering and panting, but _still_. “Maybe next week.”

“But _Ki_ —“

“ _Enough_. Come on.” They turn on their heel and head down the aisle, tossing Changkyun no more than a smug backwards glance. “I’m getting you some more multivitamins, then we can go home.”

“Can we _at least_ get the gummy kind?” Changkyun whines even as he scurries after Kihyun, arousal heavy in his belly.

“No.”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback of any kind is the bran to my bowl, the hot to my pocket, the quaker to my oats <33
> 
> u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/showmeurteef) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/showmeurteef)


End file.
